


Here Because of the People

by eggboyksoo



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Adulthood, M/M, Slice of Life, supermarket au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggboyksoo/pseuds/eggboyksoo
Summary: “Whipped,” Hendery says.“Are we talking about Ten’s dumb crush on his young-but-middle-aged customer?” Yuta appears from nowhere, dropping a bread roll and an apple onto the belt. Ten charges him fifty cents for everything. ”Because you’re right, he is. Have you ever seen that guy’s bags as soon as he’s walking out? I don’t think Ten puts that much effort into anyone else’s bags, ever.”-Dance teacher and aspiring choreographer Ten moonlights as a cashier at a local supermarket to pay his bills. Kun happens to do his weekly shop during Ten's Monday morning shift. Both carry more baggage than most realise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, welcome to my self-indulgent supermarket au fic! i'm a cashier at a local supermarket, so it was fun writing about settings and dynamics that i'm familiar with. it also kind of turned out to be more of a reflective piece on what i think are some of the struggles of adulthood, especially at that weird transitory period between uni and starting a career that i sort of share with this fic's kunten. this is all very self-indulgent, but i'm writing the fic that i wanted to see, so it's fun! i'm proud of it, but i think the self-indulgence and the reflection that went into this also makes me nervous to be sharing it lmao. i will probably go back to edit this later when it's all done because i think it's a little raw, either way, i hope you guys enjoy.
> 
> also shout out to ditto for encouraging me with this work. as always, it means a lot!

“Alright, now that we’ve all cleaned it up, I wanna see it from the top.” Ten turns, hands on hips, watching his students.

They’re all red in the face, sweat plastering hair to their foreheads. They nod, moving into position, pulling at their shirts and fanning themselves before getting focussed again.

The choreography that they’ve learning today has been difficult, and Ten can’t be prouder of his kids. He walks over to the sound system, picking up his phone to restart the music again. Then he watches.

If he’s honest, Ten doesn’t really like kids very much. Or at least, he didn’t. Maybe his own kids—the kids he teaches—are an exception. Doyoung argues it’s because teenagers are little shits, and they obviously recognise Ten as their kindred spirit. Ten likes to think that it’s because he sees himself in their tenacity, in their love of performance.

Ten moves back to the centre of the room and watches. It’s the hardest part of his job—watching and not joining in. He folds his arms tighter, trying to focus. He forces himself to not hear the music, reducing it to counts and beats, focussing on Heejin’s form, Jisung’s expression as he performs in the centre, the way the class hit the beats, movements united.

It’s not his life anymore, but his kids let him live vicariously through them.

Ten pauses the music it before it can continue. The kids all hold their final position until Ten claps.

“Amazing work, creatures,” Ten says with a smile. His kids all sag with relief. “You did really well. Remember to practice all the things we worked on today, and I think you guys are gonna kick ass at the recital. Now go stay hydrated and scram. I’m proud of you!”

Most of them bow and thank him for before leaving, dutiful students until the end. Ten notes the exhausted but happy grins on their faces, pleased.

Heejin waits back, asking for more clarification about her forms— “You did them _perfectly_. Just keep doing what you were doing in that last run-through and you’re fine.”— and Jisung asking if he could get some extra pointers with his solo choreography.

“I just…” Jisung huffs, fiddling with his hat, “I know it can be better.”

It’s the chasing of perfection, the innate knowledge that everything you’ve done can be better perfected and you are at the mercy of your body, that both makes and breaks a good dancer. Ten sighs, reaching up to Jisung’s shoulder. The kid didn’t seem to ever stop growing, and it constantly surprised him how graceful his dance remained, even if he was constantly tripping otherwise. “It can always be better,” Ten says, “But right now? It’s looking pretty amazing, kid.”

It’s something Ten wished he’d learnt earlier. But he’s glad that he gets to teach his kids that. To give them their best chance—and hopefully to stop them from ending up like him.

Ten’s disconnecting his phone from the sound system when it beeps with a new email.

> **From:** Limitless Supermarket Rosters (rosters@limitless.com)
> 
> **To:** Taeyong Lee (taeyong.lee@mail.com) Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (tenchittaphonlee@mail.com), Dejun Xiao (djxiao@mail.com), Hendery Wong (wonghkunhang@mail.com) Renjun Huang (huangrj@mail.com), Jaemin Na (nanajm@mail.com)
> 
> **Subject: **New Roster
> 
> **Attachment(s): **NewFrontEndRosterFINAL.pdf
> 
> Dear Staff,
> 
> Attached is the new roster for the upcoming fortnight. Taeyong has informed me of everyone’s availabilities and I have done my best to make sure these have been accommodated. If you see any issues with your upcoming shifts, please email this account and I will do my best to rectify it.
> 
> Kind regards,  
Doyoung Kim  
Store Manager

* * *

In hindsight, it’s a good thing his friends had begged him to keep the job he’d had since he was fifteen for _just a little longer, Ten please_, even if they swore it was because they were understaffed and not because they thought he’d be, you know, struggling.

Because despite being a popular teacher at the most prestigious dance studio in the city, Ten _is_ struggling. Rent’s a bitch and the cost of living is expensive. You do what you have to do survive. At least Ten still gets to work with his friends, and he doesn’t have to take pictures of his feet.

And there are worse places to work than Limitless. Everyone at Limitless is pretty happy being at Limitless, meaning customer service is pretty good—Ten’s even had a dance off in the aisles with some customers, once. It also means it’s hard to leave. Even though Ten had nearly jumped at the chance when he first got hired at Vision, it was still a bittersweet move. It’s just hard to accept that you can have your adult job and for it not to be _enough_.

“You’re fill-in manager today,” Doyoung says, as soon as Ten’s scanned in. “Taeyong’s sick.”

“Good morning to you too,” Ten says, holding the back door open.

Doyoung glowers. It’s his _Ten-I-am-the-manager-not-your-friend-show-some-respect_ face, which never works, because Doyoung once locked him in the produce fridge when they were both worked on the floor, so he doesn’t buy Doyoung’s by-the-book management bullshit. “Shut up, it’s been a busy morning and we’re not even open yet. So many people are sick today.”

“Oh really?”

Doyoung follows Ten as he makes his way towards the counters, blowing a kiss at Hendery, a uni student who’s become a good friend since they share most of their shifts together. He looks around for Dejun, usually the third cashier on Ten’s Monday morning shift, when Doyoung adds, “Jungwoo got food poisoning or something last night, so Dejun’s in dairy today.”

“What was it this time?” Ten pulls his drawer open, filling it with the coins and notes needed to start his shift.

“Lucas says Jungwoo wasn’t even trying to catch anything this time, he knew I’d kill him if he got sick before work,” Doyoung says with a sigh. “I’m glad he knows that by now.”

“They’re such dumb smart people.” It was fate, allowing Lucas and Jungwoo to meet and try out odd, dangerous experiments on themselves in the name of biology.

“Lord knows,” Doyoung says with a sigh. “And Yongie caught the flu. Says he got it from his niece, and everyone knows how germy tiny demons—sorry, _toddlers_—are, so—”

“It’ll be fine, Doie,” Ten says, closing his drawer and making sure his counter’s ready for the wave of customers already waiting by their front door. “Stop stressing. Your frown lines are _so deep_.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Doyoung replies, but his shoulders are relaxed now, and he steps back. “You ready to open, Hendery?”

“Yeah, all good boss!” Hendery says from next to him, closing his own till with a smile.

The first hour of Ten’s shift goes quickly, the way it always does on Monday mornings. People are always rushing, running off to the next thing to do. Even when it’s quiet, it’s nice to look busy—Junmyeon doesn’t particularly care if they stand around if all the work is done, but Doyoung’s very much a hardass.

Ten’s looking over his till, wondering if he needs change—even though he’d gotten change for himself ten minutes ago, he just likes looking at money and hoping for more of it—and Hendery’s cleaning his conveyor belt, like always. “Renjun’s pissed at one of his art teachers because they gave him really bad feedback, and Lucas has been trying to help out with Jungwoo. He kept mentioning that they _weren’t_ actually trying to give themselves salmonella this time? God, those two are really weird. So Yangs and I offered to take them both out and get them ice-cream today. Have you been to the place down in the Dream Village—the one that makes pumpkin gelato?”

“That sounds fucking gross.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Hendery says, shaking his spray bottle in the air.

“You’ve _tried _it?”

“When in Rome!”

Ten wrinkles his nose, turning away from co-worker. “Nasty.”

“You just hate produce, you plant-hating freak.”

“I am your supervisor and I _can_ give you a verbal warning.”

“Doyoung would agree with me!”

“Fuck,” Ten mutters, because it’s true.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

Ten turns around quickly, eyes quickly glancing over the clock on his register screen, before locking gazes with the man beginning to unload his groceries onto Ten’s belt.

He’s right on time, as always. Ten tries not to be too distracted by the way he glows despite the store’s shitty fluorescence. It’s been weeks and he’s still not over it. “Kun! How are you?”

“Good, thank you,” Kun replies, an easy smile on his face. ”Yourself? I hope it’s been a good morning.”

Ten stretches out his hand for Kun’s green bags, smiling back. “It hasn’t been too bad.”

“That’s good to hear.” Kun hands him a pile of neatly folded green bags. Ten takes two, looping their handles into his bag holders. Placing the rest of the pile aside, he begins to scan the groceries. “How are things going for you?”

“Same old, same old,” Ten replies, deftly filling up the first bag before placing it at the end of the counter. Kun’s one of those model customers, who makes sure everything on the belt is ordered according to type and weight, and although he’s got the most items Ten’s had to deal with all day, Ten wants to kiss him for being considerate. “It’s almost time for the winter recital, so I’ve been working on choreography for my kids and making sure they’re doing okay with it all.”

“That doesn’t sound like ‘same old, same old’ to me,” Kun quips. Trolley now empty, he moves along. As soon as he’s done putting the packed bags back into his trolley, he stands by the scanner, watching Ten with eyes too sparkly for 8:30 in the morning.

“It is for me,” Ten says with a grin. “But that’s just the glamorous life I live.”

“That sounds incredible. When’s the recital?”

“In three months,” Ten says. “Seems like a lot of time, but there’s so much to do. We’re getting onto it, though.” This time he puts two bags onto the end of the counter, Kun smoothly taking hold of them with an easy smile. Ten tries not to think about it too much. “How’s your brother?”

Kun sighs. “Chenle’s decided to get a job. Now, I’m proud of him, because I think it’s really good that he learns some sort of responsibility but I—I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous, for all sorts of reasons.”

“How old is Chenle again?” Ten asks, no longer stumbling over the name. Chenle’s a common conversation point on Kun’s weekly checkouts.

“He’s sixteen and a half.”

“Then he’ll get work, easy peasy,” Ten says. “The sweet, sweet call of junior pay? He’ll be snapped up in no time.”

“I hope so. Although, if I’m being honest with you, it’s strange to even imagine Chenle working.”

“Ah, first jobs.” Ten can’t help but laugh. “When I started here, I thought it was acceptable to pack raw meat with bread. Now I pretty much pack my own groceries everywhere. He’ll learn, that’s what a first job is all about. God knows I had such a good time at mine I haven’t left yet.” Pushing the _Next Customer Please _divider up the side of the belt with one hand, and pulling up the subtotal with another, Ten grins at Kun. “That’s $115.20.”

Kun is halfway through keying in his PIN number into the EFTPOS terminal when he pauses and looks up at Ten. “You don’t know if Limitless is hiring, do you?” Kun asks.

Ten blinks, unsure. He’s about to answer as such when he feels Hendery move in closer to him.

“Taeyong’s been talking about hiring new people for our department, he thinks we’re understaffed,” Hendery says with a smile. “Taeyong’s our manager. Although, if you’re interested in hiring, maybe talk to our store manager, Doyoung? He’s the one frowning at the broccoli over there.”

“Really?” Kun says, eyes wide. “That’s great! Should I wait to bring in Chenle, or—”

“If you want, I can talk to Doyoung for you?” Ten has said it before he even realises he’s saying it. “Doyoung’s one of my old friends—I can put in a good word for Chenle. Then you can have him introduce himself to Doyoung after school sometime. He’s here until 5 on Wednesday.”

Kun beams. “You’d really do that?”

“Sure, of course,” Ten replies. He’s surprised he’s offered, but he knows it’s the truth.

“Thank you so much, Ten!” Kun says, pulling his card out from the EFTPOS machine. “Really, even just the opportunity to be considered would mean so much to Chenle. Thank you for doing this for him.”

“It’s no worries,” Ten says, with a blush, handing over Kun’s lengthy receipt. “I guess I feel pretty endeared to him now.”

“Thank you,” Kun repeats, with a big smile. “I hope you have a good week. Maybe I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Maybe,” Ten says. “Have a good week. And tell Chenle good luck!”

Kun waves as he pushes his trolley towards the door, a bounce in his step as he goes. Ten watches him for a moment, grateful for the lack of queue so he can stare, until Hendery’s done with his customer and he’s able to pounce.

“_Put a good word in_?” Hendery echoes, amused. “If I didn’t know any better, Mr Chittaphon, I would’ve thought that you knew Kun from outside your weekly Checkout Talk.”

“I don’t,” Ten replies, insistent. He really doesn’t. He sees Kun once a week, and that’s it. “But Chenle seems like a nice kid, and if Limitless is interested in more staff, why not, right?”

“Whipped,” Hendery says.

“Are we talking about Ten’s dumb crush on his young-but-middle-aged customer?” Yuta appears from nowhere, dropping a bread roll and an apple onto the belt. Ten charges him fifty cents for everything. ”Because you’re right, he is. Have you ever seen that guy’s bags as soon as he’s walking out? I don’t think Ten puts that much effort into anyone else’s bags, ever.”

“I’m _amazing_ at bagging,” Ten replies, debating if he should just charge Yuta full price for the insult. Yuta hands him the fifty-cent coin, and Ten regrets being nice to him. “I’m just shitty with yours because you’re always forgetting your green bags, you hypocritical dickbag.”

Yuta puts a hand on his heart. “Someone’s touchy,” he says, “Although your criticism of me and my appalling memory is valid.”

“Yuta, go take your break!” Doyoung has moved away from the broccoli stand, making their way towards them. “We don’t pay you to stand around gossiping.”

“You don’t pay me, period,” Yuta says, “And you’re just as invested in this Mysterious Customer shit too, so you can’t say _shit_.”

“Oh, Kun was already in here?” Doyoung quickly looks around the store, before leaning against Ten’s register. “Start eating, Yuta, your break’s already started. Tell me everything.”

Hendery grabs Ten by the hips and spins them. Despite Ten’s protests, he’s put onto Hendery’s counter while said cashier starts dramatically recalling everything he’d heard Ten and Kun talk about.

“… Then he said he’d talked to Doyoung about Chenle for Kun. What the _hell_, right?!”

Doyoung snorts. “Jesus, he _is_ whipped. Putting in a good word for a kid you’ve never met?”

“I will lock you in the freezer cool room.”

“I’d like to see you try, you piece of shit, you don’t even have a key,” Doyoung retorts. “Besides, I would be nicer, if I were you—Junmyeon’s given me full control of all the hires.” He puffs up proudly. Ten knows that as soon as he’s gotten his accounting degree, Doyoung’s going straight into the upstairs administration for Junmyeon, but he does enjoy being a manager all the same.

“Who are you trying to fool?” Yuta snorts. “You’ve already decided to hire Chenle, haven’t you?”

Doyoung shrugs. “Depends on his availability.”

“You’d make it work.”

“Okay, maybe. It would be worth it to see Ten squirm.”

“First of all, you’re on a bit of a power trip right now, Kim Dongyoung, and that’s not a good look on you,” Ten says, turning around, arms crossed. “Secondly—Chenle’s got nothing to do with Kun and I. I’d treat him like I would any of the junior staff.”

“You and Kun literally just talk his brother and your dance kids,” Hendery quips.

Yuta takes a bite of his apple before adding, “Johnny’s asked me if it’s worth calling Chenle your stepson at this point.”

“I’ve heard enough about Chenle and Kun to be able to judge his character already,” Doyoung says. “When I’ll meet him in person I’ll make my final decision, but he seems keen on a job, which means we’re keen to have him.” He pauses for a moment, and then adds, “Is it wrong for me to want Chenle to tell Ten how much Kun likes him? I hope he does that.”

Hendery and Yuta break out into excited chatter, with Ten rolling his eyes. “You’re all fucking dead to me, John Seo included,” he announces, before gesturing for a customer to come through.

“We only want what’s best for you, Tennie!” Yuta says, reaching out to pat Ten on the shoulder before making his way towards the break room.

“If Chenle works here, we’ll get to see more Kun,” Hendery says happily.

Ten wishes that the idea of seeing Kun more often didn’t make him a lot more perky for his next customer, but Ten’s a weak man with not a lot to look forward to during his shifts here, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/eggboyksoo)   
[cc](http://curiouscat.me/eggboyksoo)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just invite everyone for drinks,” Sicheng whines. “I want to hear more about this mysterious Weekly Shopper That Only Goes Through Your Register guy, and I feel like your coworkers aren’t gonna leave me deprived like someone else I know.”
> 
> Ten groans. “It’s not that interesting!”
> 
> “That’s not what Yuta says.”
> 
> “I hate that you’re friends with Yuta now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has left kudos, commented and subscribed so far! i've just realised just how much of a slice of life this one is, but hopefully you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> also, disclaimer: i literally have two left feet so if any dancers read this and think some of the technical languages for dancing is really off, my biggest apologies! i did try to do some research, but it's unfamiliar territory for me.

“Hm.”

“Oh, that’s never good.” Sicheng crosses his arms and shoots him a grin. “What are you thinking?”

Ten closes his eyes with a sigh. He replays Sicheng’s movements in his head, following the count. His arms follow along automatically as he tries to figure out what felt so out of place. After a few more mental run-throughs, he says, “Can you go from the top of the chorus again? But maybe move into that spin a little earlier.”

Sicheng nods, swinging his arms as he gets into position. “Two counts okay?”

“Sounds good.” Ten reaches for his phone and starts the music again.

Sicheng follows the suggestion to a tee. It’s such a little shift, but it makes everything look _right_. He allows Sicheng to dance to the end of the chorus before pausing the music with a grin.

“That’s way better,” he says. “The turn came in too late originally. That feels a lot—I don’t know, more punchy?”

“Probably looks better too because it’s more dynamic,” Sicheng adds, walking over to his water bottle. “Gives me more time to reach full extension and show off the lines properly before moving on.”

“Good,” Ten says, pleased. It’s nice to have a technical explanation for what he’s seeing. “It’s coming together now.”

Sicheng bends over, reaching down to touch his toes. “It’s mostly been complete for three weeks now. You’ve been nitpicking.”

“Perfection takes time,” Ten quips back. “Also you just helped me point out something that needed fixing.”

“It looks better,” Sicheng agrees, “But it wasn’t bad before.”

“I just have a feeling that this could be our best choreography yet.” Ten knows he’s being fussy, but something is telling him to be precise. “Gimme a little more time and you’re gonna look like a god in the video.”

“I’m always godlike,” Sicheng replies, breezy. He moves, holding one of his arms up and stretching out his sides. “And you _always_ give me really good choreography.”

“Is this why you haven’t bothered trying to choreograph anything for yourself yet?”

Sicheng grins. “Exactly. Why bother when you know exactly how to convey my feelings?”

“Lazy fuck.” Ten rolls his eyes as Sicheng flips him off, sliding onto the floor in a split. “You’d be great at it, I’m sure,” Ten says, talking to the ground as Sicheng stretches himself out, “You have a good eye.”

Ten’s understanding of technique has always paled in comparison to Sicheng’s knowledge. Having been classically trained, Sicheng has always innately understood the concepts Ten has struggled to memorise. Sicheng knows how to make something look good, how lines and shape and levels work in a way that Ten still struggles with, now that he doesn’t dance.

“Eh, I’d rather dance.” Sicheng pauses for a moment as he stands, gaze flickering nervously over Ten.

“I can understand that.” If Ten could still dance, he probably would’ve said the same thing.

Sicheng rolls out his shoulder, clears his throat. “Tell me what’s next, boss. I want to be finished with this choreography _sometime _this week. I’ve also got another routine I need to learn for this other client and I still haven’t got it down yet.”

Ten could be offended, but he’s known Sicheng for a long time now, and he knows that Sicheng is just blunt; he never says anything to be deliberately mean, even if it feels like it, sometimes. He reminds himself of this as he pulls up some notes on his iPad. “The blocking went well, but there are still some transitions I’m not sure about.”

He talks in detail over each point he’s written, Sicheng providing the dancer’s perspective that Ten so desperately needs.

Sicheng is a master dancer. He takes all critique head-on, constantly chasing perfection. If that wasn’t enough, the grace he exudes as he experiments with his transitions, allowing Ten the opportunity to see which one works best with the story he’s telling, with the beat, the melody, the vibe—it just confirms it for him.

It takes a few more hours for them to finish up. When it’s all done, Ten chucks his iPad onto the one couch in the studio, and Sicheng uselessly wipes away the sweat from his forehead. When Ten stands, he can’t help but hiss. He’d been sitting too long.

“That was awesome, Winwin,” he says, using Sicheng’s (very fitting) stage name. “There’s just something I need to figure out in that second verse of the song—I think that’ll only take me some time next session, though, and then we’ll be done.”

Sicheng sighs with relief. “Finally, thank fuck,” he says. “Thursday?”

“Obviously.”

“Cool. And then on Thursday night, we’re going out to the celebrate,” Sicheng adds, sly, pulling on his hoodie. When Ten opens his mouth to protest, he adds, “I’m not taking no for an answer, Ten. If you’re hanging out with the people from Limitless already, just invite me. They’re cool.”

“I haven’t made any plans with anyone. Besides, you just think Jaehyun’s cute. You’re not fucking subtle _at all_.”

“He’s cute _and_ he gives me free bread, Ten,” Sicheng replies as if that explains everything. In some ways, it does, because Jaehyun never gives Ten free bread, and Ten’s known Jaehyun since his first day of work at age fifteen. “Just invite everyone for drinks,” Sicheng whines. “I want to hear more about this mysterious Weekly Shopper That Only Goes Through Your Register guy, and I feel like your coworkers aren’t gonna leave me deprived like someone else I know.”

Ten groans. “It’s not that interesting!”

“That’s not what Yuta says.”

“I hate that you’re friends with Yuta now.”

“Yuta recommends the best produce! Why are you so surprised by these things?” Sicheng grabs the rest of his gear, turning around to address Ten. “Look, maybe I have an agenda to be friends with all of your Limitless coworkers. So what? It doesn’t change the fact that you deserve to spend time with all your friends—you’ve been working so hard recently. Don’t think I don’t know about the two freelancing jobs you picked up this month on top of this shit. And you’re preparing for the recital. _And_ working at Limitless.”

Sicheng listing all the work Ten needs to get done in the next few weeks triggers a wave of nausea, but Ten merely shrugs it off. “Fine, I’ll be there, I’ll make sure I’ll message the guys,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’ll put out a message to the Triple L group chat (Legal Limitless Line) if they wanted to go out on Thursday night. “Get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sicheng says, already walking to the door. “Stretch your leg and get some rest!”

* * *

Wednesday has become Ten’s designated day for dancing. The advanced junior class, his kids, runs on Wednesday afternoons. He uses Wednesday mornings to work on his fledging career, booking meetings with clients and working on choreography he has to deliver.

On the Wednesday Kun and Chenle are meant to come into Limitless, Ten spends the whole morning in the Dream Village, choreographing for a client at the Neo Theatre, on the other side of town.

Doyoung has been texting him all day, informing him about all the different items that have gone on sale. Half the stuff is shit Ten wouldn’t even buy (for some reason, Doyoung thought it would be interesting to rant about how cheap the bananas were this week, especially compared to the shops around his apartment, to _Ten_).

**Doyoung Kim (Limitless Boss Man)**

stop trying to make me head into limitless today it’s not happening fam

:)

Who knows?

Also, look, Gatorades are on sale too! Forgot about those!

When Ten walks into Limitless an hour before his class, Doyoung has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut the fuck _up_,” Ten says, walking past the store manager, who’s passing time post-after-school rush fixing up the stock in the front of the aisles. “Victoria told me to get some Gatorade for the studio.”

“And you told me all my texts were pointless.” God, Doyoung is so smug. Ten knows even without looking at him that he’s puffed up with pride. Ten takes the empty trolley next to Doyoung and walks over to the display of colourful sports drinks. It looks like its been neatly and recently organised, and Ten enjoys fucking it up. It’s what Doyoung deserves.

“Asshole,” Doyoung says, once Ten’s walked away.

“Back atcha, dude.”

“I try to be a good wingman, and this is how you pay me?”

The truth is, Victoria hadn’t known there was a sale at Limitless; it was just the usual delivery to the studio hadn’t come as it was supposed to. Ten was on his way to work, so she’d just asked him to get some on the way. It had just been a convenient excuse to show up at Limitless—Gatorade was on sale, and he had a manager approved discount and probably couldn’t afford to buy 30 bottles of Gatorade at full price.

No matter what he’d say. though, Doyoung would be convinced Ten was here to get a glimpse of Kun. It would be nice to see him, Ten reasons, but it’s not why he’s here. He’s not _that_ sad.

Ten rolls his eyes and pushes his trolley towards the nearest counter, where Jaemin Na waits for him, waggling his eyebrows.

“This is a bit of a hike,” Jaemin says, in lieu of a greeting. “Hendery said you’d be working at the Theatre today.”

“The Gatorades are on sale,” Ten points out.

“You couldn’t have bought them from anywhere else?” Renjun Huang, the newest Limitless supervisor and first of Ten’s kids, asks from the next counter over.

“Didn’t I just say they were on sale?” Ten huffs. “Also, I needed to buy a lot and I’m poor.”

“Doesn’t your studio reimburse you anyway?”

Ten pulls his foldable green bags out of his tote bag, all but throwing them into Jaemin’s face. Jaemin, used to Ten’s dramatic bullshit, just cackles.

“You’re both fucking annoying, you know that?” Ten says to them.

Renjun tidies his counter. “It’s not our fault you’re really fucking obvious.”

“Language. You’re on the clock.”

“And you’re not, so you’re not my boss. _I’m_ in charge right now, thank you.”

Jaemin taps his shoulder. “I’m done. It’s $34.50.”

“With the discount?”

“Of course. Now, are you gonna pay by card?”

Ten pulls out his card from his wallet, tapping the terminal. “And how are you, Nana?”

“Alright,” Jaemin says. “Uni’s kicking my ass. I’ve been thinking about going back to six shots again.”

“Do _not_ drink your hell drink, Jaemin. You’re doing so well!”

“Sometimes you’ve gotta do what you gotta do. There aren’t enough hours in the day,” Jaemin says, and Ten can’t help but sigh.

“Fair,” Because Jaemin’s onto something about making time to finish everything he needs to do, “But don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to.” Jaemin hands him his receipt. “For your reimbursement.”

“Thanks, Nana.”

Jaemin’s gaze flickers to Ten’s knee. “You’re doing okay, right?”

A small twinge of pain radiates from his knee as if it had noticed Jaemin staring at it. “Yeah, I’m doing okay,” Ten says. “Little tired, but it’s just busy.” He’s probably going to crash as soon as he gets home and he’s going to treat himself to _two_ glasses of wine, but it’s not as bad as it could be.

“Good,” Jaemin says, smiling brightly. “Take care! I hope you get to see your cute customer today.”

Ten scoffs, but he can’t help but smile anyway. “Thank you, Jaemin. Nice seeing you again. Take care, alright? You too, Renjun,” he says, raising his voice. Renjun, who’s in the middle of putting something through for a customer, waves in his direction without looking back.

“Bye Ten, have fun,” Jaemin says with a grin. “Next waiting!”

Ten moves out of the way, reaching for his green bags, the next customer already coming over to stand by Jaemin’s counter. He hears Jaemin’s _“How are you today?”_ as he looks over the receipt. Jaemin’s scanner is notorious for being a little sensitive, and Ten checks the quantity on his receipt to make sure he hasn’t been short-changed. Satisfied, Ten is putting his trolley back behind Renjun’s counter when he hears Doyoung scream, _“Ten!”_

Ten is about to launch a loud, _“What?!”_ back at the manager, but it dies in his throat when he sees Kun and a boy with green hair standing next to him. Doyoung waves him over.

He doesn’t move until Kun beams and raises his hand in a wave. He doesn’t even realise he’s moving until he’s halfway there. He doesn’t risk a look at Doyoung.

“Hi there,” Ten says, once he’s close enough. Turning to the green-haired teen, he says, “You must be Chenle, right?”

Kun’s little brother nods. “Yeah, that’s me,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Ten.”

“Likewise.” Ten holds out a hand, and Chenle shakes it enthusiastically.

“Ten’s second-in-charge on the front end,” Doyoung says, formally introducing him. “He’s our most senior supervisor. He only works a few times a week, but he’ll probably be the one training you how to work on the registers.”

Ten looks over at Doyoung, surprised. “He’s gotten the job already?” He hadn’t even seen Kun and Chenle walk in, and he was certain they hadn’t been there when Ten had arrived.

Doyoung shrugs. “What can I say, I’m easily charmed.”

“Alright.” Ten holds back a snort. But he turns back to where Chenle is standing, shoulders still hunched in a little, but a big smile on his face. Ten can’t help but smile back. “Welcome to Limitless,” he says, with a grin. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a lot of fun here. It’s a great place.”

“Thank you,” Chenle said, nodding his head again. “And thank you, Doyoung—”

“No, thank _you._” Doyoung smiles warmly at Chenle, tension seeping out of the younger boy’s shoulders. Doyoung’s always been good with the kids on staff. “Although I suppose we have Ten to thank for mentioning it to me.”

“Kun brought it up,” Ten immediately adds.

Kun rubs the back of his neck. “It just felt like a conversation point—”

“_Whoa_,” Chenle says, cutting off his brother entirely. His gaze is locked on the logo on Ten’s hoodie. “Do you dance at the Vision Dance Studio?! That’s so crazy, so does my best friend! It’s the best studio in Neo City!”

The awe on Chenle’s face makes Ten shift his weight, embarrassed. “You’re right about it being the best studio in the city, but I’m not a dancer.” _Anymore_, he adds, in his head. He can feel Doyoung’s gaze on him. “I teach there, actually. Maybe I know your friend?”

Chenle nods quickly, eyes bright. Kun’s gaze flickers between Ten and Doyoung, but he stays quiet. “You probably do,” Chenle says. “My best friend’s such a good dancer. Jisung Park, have you ever heard of him?”

Ten can’t help but laugh, eyes travelling up to Chenle’s green hair again. “I guess you could say that,” he says. He thinks Jisung’s numerous hair phases—Gatorade blue, gun silver, pink, and now, a bright shade of orange that would complement Chenle’s muted green. “Were you the one who left that huge bouquet backstage at the last recital? The one with the card that said _‘BREAK A LEG IDIOT’_ and decorated it with heart stickers?”

“Yes!” Chenle beams. “Jisung was so embarrassed by it. I’m glad you remember.”

Kun tilts his head. “How did you know about the bouquet?”

Ten laughs. “Jisung’s one of my kids,” he says. “I wasn’t officially his teacher until the start of this year, but I’ve been with the studio for years now. I was backstage when he found it.”

“God,” Kun says, shaking his head. “The world really _is_ small, isn’t it? You’ve been telling me about how you’re preparing for a recital, and Chenle’s already bought tickets for it.”

“I have to support Jisung!” Chenle insists. “He said that his dance teacher—uh, _you_—gave him a solo, and he’s been practising super hard. He’s been super happy about it, so I had to make sure I was gonna see it.”

“He’s gonna be great.” It’s the right thing to say, and Ten swears Chenle’s eyes sparkle. Ten wonders if eye sparkles are genetic. “Really great. I can tell he’s been working super hard.”

“He’s the best,” Chenle says, looking incredibly proud. “He’s probably the best in his class.”

Chenle’s not too far off the mark, but Ten’s technically not allowed to have favourites. Instead, he just laughs, turning to look at Doyoung, who looks completely mystified. “Ten’s always saying I can’t hire any of his kids,” Doyoung says. “He says that they’re too busy dancing. I think this is as close as I’m going to get.”

“Jisung wants a job too!” Chenle says. “But—”

“No jobs until he’s done with the recital,” Ten says.

Chenle’s eyes are wide. “You really _are_ his dance teacher,” he says. “That’s exactly what Jisung said.”

“Good to see he’s listening,” Ten says. Reminded of his impending class, he quickly checks his watch and swears as soon as he sees the time. “I gotta get to the studio now, otherwise I’ll be late.” Ten hoists one of his green bags over his shoulders and gets himself ready for a brisk walk. “Congratulations on the job, Chenle, you’ll do great. And thank you for buying tickets to the recital. I’ll see you both next week!”

“Thank you, Ten,” Kun says, smiling softly. All Ten can do is smile back, trying to tell himself not to fucking lose it.

“No problem,” he says. He turns towards Doyoung and says, “See you when I see you, Doie.”

“Friday,” Doyoung informs him, fixing the bag strap on Ten’s shoulders. “I’ll send you some emails about training shifts as soon as Chenle’s completed his paperwork.”

“If it makes it easier for you, we’re happy to just sit here, go through everything and sign everything before we leave,” Kun adds.

Doyoung beams. “That would be incredible,” he says. “Here, I’ll bring you somewhere where it’s quiet. Get going, Ten!”

“Alright, I’m going,” Ten says, noting the approval in Doyoung’s face. “Bye, everyone.”

“Say hi to Jisungie for me!”

“Lele, you were literally at school with him—”

“Will do,” Ten promises, and the exasperated but fond look Kun has on his face as he stares at his younger brother feels like a punch to the gut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I wasn’t feeling buzzed right now, I would’ve sworn that was Kun Qian,” Sicheng says, shaking his head. “But if he looks a lot like Kun Qian, maybe it _is_ Kun Qian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to chapter 3! i've looked over this a few times, and hopefully there aren't any glaring typos. as soon as i've finished posting this i'm going to work on a chapter i've been stuck on for a little while, so wish me luck! hope you guys enjoy!

> **From: **Doyoung Kim (doyoung.kim@limitless.com)  
**To: **Taeyong Lee (taeyong.lee@mail.com), Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (tenchittaphonlee@mail.com)  
**Subject: **New Employee + Training

Dear Taeyong and Ten,

Chenle Zhong has done all his paperwork, so I’ll be putting him on the roster starting from next week. He doesn’t have a preference for which department to work in, so I think training him in customer service/floor/produce. (Is it worth having him train in the deli as well?)

Ten—is it okay if Chenle trains with you on Friday?

Taeyong—please let me know if that doesn’t work for you.

Kind regards,  
Doyoung Kim  
Store Manager 

> **From: **Taeyong Lee (taeyong.lee@mail.com)  
**To: **Doyoung Kim (doyoung.kim@limitless.com), Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (tenchittaphonlee@mail.com)  
**Subject:** RE: New Employee + Training

Dear Doyoung and Ten,

That’s fine with me! If it gets busy we should have Jaemin and Dejun on anyway, so we’ll be right in terms of supervisors. Hopefully, Chenle will want to join us on the front end by the end of it, we need the extra staff! But it’ll be good to train him for all the other departments just in case. :)

In regards to deli—maybe just ask Taeil? You know he’s not fussy about staff but I feel like it depends on how available Lucas is.

Taeyong

P.S. Doie, you coming to drinks tonight? 

> **From: **Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (tenchittaphonlee@mail.com)  
**To: **Doyoung Kim (doyoung.kim@limitless.com), Taeyong Lee (taeyong.lee@mail.com)  
**Subject: **RE: New Employee + Training

Dear Boss #1 and Boss #2,

That’s fine with me. Send me things you need me to teach him! I can’t remember what’s important.

Ten (10)

P.S. On the drinks note @ Doyoung: Sicheng and Jaehyun are both coming. 

> **From: **Doyoung Kim (doyoung.kim@limitless.com)  
**To: **Taeyong Lee (taeyong.lee@mail.com), Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (tenchittaphonlee@mail.com)  
**Subject: **RE: New Employee + Training

Dear Taeyong and Ten,

Taeyong—I’ll make sure I’ll ask Taeil before I finalise the new rosters. Thank you.

Ten—You say that like you haven’t trained half of the front end staff on rotation. In any case, I think the only thing that jumps out at me is making sure Chenle is familiar with the printed/email copies of the roster. Also, explain to him he’ll be rostered onto different departments until we find one that suits him best, and teach him how to put notify us on availabilities.

Kind regards,  
Doyoung Kim  
Store Manager

P.S. Jaehyun and Sicheng? I’ll be there to see if anything manages to top the sheer brilliance of Jaehyun trying to drunkenly give Sicheng breadsticks. I’ll be there at 8. Usual place?

* * *

“You don’t have to get the Cherry Bomb Cocktail every time you go to Cherry Bomb, Sicheng,” Ten stares at the fruity contraption in Sicheng’s hand. It _looks_ good, but Ten’s not about that life. Give him a gin and tonic, any day. “There are other things on the menu, you know.”

Sicheng looks Ten dead in the face and flips him off. “Stop judging me. We don’t all hate fruit.”

Doyoung’s laugh is so loud Ten can hear it over the night’s live music. “I love when Ten invites you,” he declares, happily. “It’s so fun hearing Ten being roasted.”

“Seems like he has a type in best friends,” Yuta crows, draining the rest of his second beer.

“I’m pretty nice!” Taeyong defends.

Johnny pats the top of Taeyong’s head. “Yongie, you’re nice to everyone. You don’t count. You’re an angel and none of us deserve you.”

Taeyong’s cheeks blaze red, and he chugs his cider, obviously trying to play it off as a drunk flush. “You’re sweet. Thanks, Johnny,” he says.

Johnny raises his glass of wine. “Any time.”

Doyoung scoffs. “I’m getting real tired of this sappy bullshit.” He’s not wearing his tie anymore, which means he’s left all sense of propriety and professional politeness behind with it.

“Just because you’re soulless, Kim Doyoung, doesn’t mean we all are,” Taeyong protests, and Ten watches with affection as Doyoung and Taeyong start slinging insults at each other. Doyoung’s the only person who can rile Taeyong up this way, and it’s always fun to watch.

“I love your friends,” Sicheng says cheerfully, sipping at his ghastly cocktail.

“Make your own friends,” Ten snipes back, but he’s smiling.

Although he would’ve never imagined working at Limitless for a better part of a decade when he first handed in his resume to Junmyeon, it’s one of the best things that has ever happened to him. For a bunch of co-workers, they’re pretty close, and it was all because they were all approachable, good people, who welcomed people with open arms. The only barrier to their friendship was often getting into your own head.

Sometimes he forgets, but he’s so lucky to call them all his friends.

Ten’s gaze looks over the group of people gathered there, settling on Johnny. The grocery manager’s cheeks are already flushed, onto his third or fourth beer. He notices Ten’s staring, gaze drifting towards him—the way best friends do. He smiles, genuine but reserved, before shifting his attention back to something Taeil’s saying.

Barriers are pesky things.

Ten knows that he’s not as close to his friends as he used to be, could be, and he knows it’s for a lot of reasons. Time, for one. The sheer reality of adulthood for another. And himself. But still, his friends indulge him, Taeyong finally done arguing with Doyoung and settling his head onto Ten’s shoulder, already tired; the way Jaehyun, despite making less money than the rest of them, offers to buy Ten a drink.

Ten wishes that he was better at expressing it these days—he wants to be able to open himself up to bask in their love and attention.

“You look like you’re thinking hard,” Taeyong mumbles, his breath tickling the shell of Ten’s ear. “Wanna talk about it?”

Ten drains the rest of his gin and tonic. “I’ve missed this,” he says.

Taeyong nuzzles closer. “We’ve missed you, too.”

Ten sits there for a moment, warm, buzzed, comfortable, _loved_. When Jaehyun begins to stand and asks for Sicheng’s order, Ten decides to cash in on Jaehyun’s offer. Jaehyun’s got a look in his eye that makes Ten think he’s ready to pay for Sicheng’s whole tab, and Ten wants another drink before Jaehyun’s card gets declined. Ten sits himself up, helping Taeyong rearrange himself so he’s cuddling Taeil instead. He’s ready to offer to help Jaehyun bring back the drinks from the bar when Sicheng frowns, his head tilting to the side.

“If I wasn’t feeling buzzed right now, I would’ve sworn that was Kun Qian,” Sicheng says, shaking his head. “But if he looks a lot like Kun Qian, maybe it _is_ Kun Qian.”

At the mention of a Kun, everyone follows Sicheng’s gaze. Ten sees someone putting on a heavy coat, his back facing them. It _does_ look a lot like Kun, _his_ Kun, although he still doesn’t know Kun’s last name.

“Lucky,” Taeil says, absentmindedly. “We’ve been witnesses to this Kun drama for months now, and you get his last name.”

“You work in the deli,” Yuta points out. “I literally have to tell you everything.”

“I thought we were all in this together!”

“Kun drama?” Sicheng asks, frowning. “What Kun drama? Do you guys know Kun?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Not well,” he says. “Well—maybe the front end people know best, I just know what Doyoung and Taeyong tell us. And what they hear when they’re eavesdropping on him and Ten.”

“Wait, Ten knows—?” Sicheng’s eyes widen. “_Fuck_, is he your Weekly Shopper That Only Goes Through Your Register guy?”

Ten stares back, confused. “Yes?”

“Oh.” Sicheng leans back in his chair, looking a little dazed. “Damn, it’s a small world.”

“You know Mystery Kun?” Yuta asks.

Sicheng takes a healthy sip of his cocktail. Ten’s ready to accuse him of pausing for dramatic effect when Sicheng finally drops the bombshell: “We may have dated for a few months a little while back.”

If Ten had any alcohol left in his glass, he might’ve choked on it. The look on his coworker’s faces looked very much like they felt the same way.

“You’re kidding,” Yuta says, eyes wide. “You have to be kidding.”

Sicheng blinks. “Does it look like I’m kidding, Nakamoto?”

Yuta leans back, overwhelmed. “Holy _shit_.”

Ten looks over at Kun’s shapely back and then back at Sicheng. “I didn’t know,” he says, immediately. “I wouldn’t have waxed poetry about him if I had!”

“Relax,” Sicheng says, patting Ten’s arm. “Jaehyun, are you still down to pay for drinks? Ten and I need a refill. Also—everyone, stop fucking looking. When he turns around, he’s gonna see you staring like a bunch of weirdos.”

As the rest of them quickly avert their gazes, Jaehyun stands up with a fire in his eyes. He’s ready to impress. “Of course I’ll pay,” he says. “What are you both after?” When he confirms their orders, Jaehyun strides to the bar like a man on a mission. Ten swears he can hear Johnny cough, _“Whipped,”_ into his sleeve.

The events of the last five minutes leave Ten flustered. He’d already been a little shaken up by the fact that Kun, strait-laced, responsible Kun, was having a drink in a bar like Cherry Bomb. It’s a nice one, for sure, but it’s always been a little sloppy and grungy in a way Ten had never pictured Kun. And then there was the fact Sicheng and Kun had dated. Again, that was a shocker. Not so much that Sicheng had dated Kun because Sicheng unashamedly had a type (soft-but-strong men, as exemplified by Kun’s general aura and Jaehyun’s face). He’s just surprised he’d never heard about it, ever, because he’s sure if Sicheng had been dating someone like Kun, Ten would’ve heard Sicheng wax poetry about it. He would know because he’s been there.

Sicheng takes one look at the expression on Ten’s face and pats his thigh. “I’ll explain as soon as he’s gone,” Sicheng says, incredibly calm.

Ten tries not to look in Kun’s direction, but he’s a weak man, so his eyes keep flittering over at every opportunity. Despite shrugging on a jacket far too long ago, Kun takes his time leaving, still wrapped up in conversation with his drinking buddy. When the other man finally leaves, Kun merely shakes his head and turns around, the ghost of a chuckle still on his face.

Ten’s not sure how Kun manages to zero in on him so quickly, but Kun’s eyes widen as soon as he sees him. Then they crinkle into a smile. As Kun raises his hand to wave, Ten can’t help but wave back.

“Pathetic,” Doyoung says, loud enough so Ten can hear him, but not loud enough for his words to travel around the bar. Still, Doyoung raises his hand in another wave, yelling, “Hi, Kun!” Which prompts almost everyone at the table to yell their greetings at the approaching man, too.

From the corner of Ten’s eye, he notices that Sicheng doesn’t wave; he merely watches as Kun approaches.

“Hi, Ten,” Kun says. “Hi everyone. Is this some sort of work gathering?”

Doyoung shrugs. “Sort of,” he replies. Then, after a pause, he adds: “We invited Sicheng, too.”

Kun’s head turns quickly, in the direction of Doyoung’s vague gesture. Sicheng merely smiles, placing his empty cocktail glass onto the table. “Hi Kun,” he says. “Long time no see.”

“Long time,” Kun replies, with a smile. It’s not forced, but Ten can see it’s guarded. “How’d you get your invite?”

“He doesn’t work at Limitless, but he’s still my coworker,” Ten says, with a shrug. “Sicheng’s a dance teacher at Vision, too. We choreograph a lot of pieces together.”

“I like the Limitless crew,” Sicheng says. “So I make Ten invite me to things with them.”

Jaehyun chooses that exact moment to reappear, putting a gin and tonic down in front of Ten, and a martini in front of Sicheng. “The feeling’s mutual,” Jaehyun says, easily, taking a seat next to him. If Ten wasn’t freaking out over Kun, he probably would’ve laughed. “You can come hang out with us any time.”

“Aw, thanks,” Sicheng says, poking at Jaehyun’s cheek.

“Hopefully you weren’t drinking alone?” Ten asks, pretending that hadn’t been watching Kun for the last five minutes.

“Oh, no,” Kun says, with a laugh, “Just out with a coworker. We had a long day of marking and so we felt like we deserved a few beers.” Kun glances down at his watch, before saying, “But I have to go. I’ve gotta make sure Chenle and Jisung are doing their homework.”

“It was nice seeing you,” Ten says. It’s true, for the most part—confusing, but Kun looks _really_ good in a trench coat and Ten’s weak. “Hopefully I’ll see you around?”

Kun nods, eyes sparkling and warm, but his smile still doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll probably see you all around Limitless more often now, right?”

Johnny laughs. “Probably,” he says. “You’ll see us so often you’ll probably get sick of us.”

“We’ll see,” Kun laughs, before saying, “Well, it was lovely to see you all. You too, Sicheng.”

Sicheng smiles. There’s nothing but genuine happiness on his face—the look of someone who’s moved on and at peace with whatever had happened. “You too, Kun.”

Once Kun has well and truly left the bar, Taeil says, “Well, that surprisingly _not_ painfully awkward.”

Their entire table breaks out into raucous laughter.

The group conversation they’d all been holding previously splinters off into little groups. Ten takes the opportunity to fling an arm around Sicheng’s waist, cautiously putting his head onto Sicheng’s shoulder. He relaxes when his friend doesn’t shake him off. Sicheng was too inebriated to care about personal space anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Ten says apologetically. “I wouldn’t be crushing on him if I knew you guys had dated. Bros before hoes, always. You’re too important to me for me to choose some hot guy over you.”

“Aw.” Sicheng pokes his cheek. “I hate the implication that you don’t think_ I’m_ hot because you’re wrong, and I think you have an agenda—”

“Okay, fine, you caught me. You make my choreography look beautiful, and I can’t afford to lose you.”

“You do that, dumbass, not me,” Sicheng says, rolling his eyes, “But you’re important to me too, Tennie. And there’s no real bad blood between Kun and I. I’m not bothered by this at all. We’re history. Done and dusted.”

“Are you sure?” Ten asks, nervous.

“Sure,” Sicheng says. “Besides, I don’t blame you. Kun Qian is one of those people who are just really cute-hot, you know? And if he’s been talking to you for months and being sweet you would’ve stood no chance. You’re only human.”

“God, he is, isn’t he?” Ten sighs, burrowing his face into Sicheng’s neck. Sicheng huffs a little but still doesn’t shake Ten off. “What kind of dark magic is this shit?”

Sicheng laughs, good-naturedly. “He was designed to attract people who innately like bad boys but not their drama. Or at least, that’s what I thought when I was dating him.”

It’s lucky, Ten thinks, that of all people, that it’s Sicheng who is Kun’s ex. Sicheng is easily the most relaxed person he knows. “So why didn’t you work out, then? If we agree he’s so perfect.”

Sicheng wrinkles his nose. “I never said he was perfect. He’s cute-hot, I’ll give him that, but perfect’s a bit of a stretch.” When Ten whines, Sicheng adds, “I have my reasons!”

“So tell me!”

Sicheng shifts a little in his seat, moving Ten’s head to make sure he’s comfortable, too, before he starts speaking. “Look. Kun... is an amazing guy. I know we both know about Kun’s brother. I’d never met him, but he’s basically that kid’s dad. And he’s only our age, so to take full responsibility for your younger brother is a pretty big deal. And he’s warmhearted and I think he’s sincere about a lot of things.”

“... And? Nothing you’re saying is screaming _not date-worthy material _right now.”

Sicheng sighs. “The problem with Kun is that... well—look I’m only telling you this because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know, okay? But he’s kind of flighty. When we were dating, I swore he had one foot out the door the entire fucking time.”

Ten closes his eyes, processing. “So you were over because he, like, what. Wasn’t fully committed?”

“Sorta,” Sicheng says, “I mean, he was _committed_, like he didn’t cheat on me or anything, but. How do I explain this—? Hm, okay. It’s more like... he was cute, you know? We talked, for a bit. Then we went out on dates. There was something between us, I don’t think I imagined it. He was just as much _there_ as I was. But as soon as we started dating, it was like something had switched off.” Sicheng sighed. “This is making him sound bad.”

“It’s okay. Keep going.”

“It was more like... like, he woke up one day and realised that we were dating, and there were a whole bunch of implications that came with that. You know? Like, I wasn’t thinking super long-term or anything—you know me, I’m more of like, the seat of my pants kind of guy—but a relationship is still serious, and he was my boyfriend. And I just think it was... I dunno. A lot for him to take in. He was clearly into me, but he was definitely like. Panicking about it. It was weird. Like, I could tell he wanted it to work, but he felt trapped.” Sicheng shrugs. “Anyways, we tried for a few months. And he wasn’t even a bad boyfriend or anything! He took me on the nicest dates and was sweet. Like, genuinely. But he just... I dunno. It was like as soon as we made it official, some part of him had shut down.”

Ten ponders this for a moment. Sicheng’s assessment of Kun was so completely different from what he was expecting to hear about him that he doesn’t even know what to say. “He always seemed like a long-haul kinda guy,” Ten admits.

“Yeah, he has that look about him, doesn’t he?” Sicheng replies. “But _something_ was going on. Just didn’t seem like the right time, and although I think he wanted to be, I clearly couldn’t get him to be 100% present.”

“This may single-handedly kill my crush,” Ten says. “Not wanting to fully commit to _you_? Crazy.”

“You’d never do it, you fake bitch.”

“We’re committed _platonically_.”

“Anyways,” Sicheng says, “It’s been a while now. Maybe like, two years?” Sicheng shrugs. “I dunno. It’s been a while. Maybe he’s ready this time. He’s interested, Tennie. There’s no harm in trying to pursue it. It’s better to try these things out and have them fail then never try at all. You know how that shit goes.”

Ten sighs. “Yeah.” Sicheng’s right. Dancers, by their very nature, cannot afford to be hesitant. Only the boldest win. But this is different—this is isn’t a lead role or a coveted position.

This is Ten’s heart that they’re talking about, here. And Ten’s only twenty-three now, barely a functioning adult, but his priorities have changed significantly in the last few years. He’d been a lot like Sicheng at one point, just taking things as they’d come—but now he’s realised the importance of having a Plan B, a safety blanket. Consistency. Opportunities don’t fall onto his lap anymore, he has to make them. And he’s realising that maybe he wants someone for the long haul. A proper partner, not just someone to have for the sake of having.

So that’s what Ten’s after now. Maybe. “I don’t know if I should engage in anything if we’re not on the same page.”

“Well, you’d probably have to talk about that,” Sicheng notes, “But even if it doesn’t get that far, he’d still be a great lay.”

“_Sicheng!_”

“I’m just _saying_,” Sicheng picks up his martini with an unapologetic shrug. “But that’s all I’m telling you. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re saying a lot of things,” Ten points out. One of Sicheng’s best qualities is that he is a surprising fountain of wisdom, and it’s his objectiveness that helps Ten makes choices for himself. Normally, it’s a great thing, how Sicheng lets Ten come to his own conclusions, a soundboard for Ten’s numerous thoughts. But now, Ten wishes Sicheng had some opinions. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to ask Kun on a date, but he needs to know if it’s viable.

“I’m just saying,” Sicheng says, after a while, “That you should be careful. Not that you shouldn’t pursue it, because there’s _something_ there, and it’s always worth a shot. But be careful. He’s more complicated than he lets on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed the limitless legal line (triple l, which isn't an accurate name anymore because all of the limitless staff are legal adults now except chenle) having fun at a bar! the cherry bomb scene was one of my favourites to write. 
> 
> what's up with kun? hopefully we all get to find out soon!
> 
> thank you for reading! any and feedback is appreciated :)
> 
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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, just as Ten’s convincing himself this is something that he can get over, the doctor Ten hasn’t seen in eight months appears at his bedside, and the look on his face has Ten silently praying, begging, _Please. I can’t go through that again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there! first, i'd like to say thank you so much for the feedback from last chapter; it truly means a lot. the scene at cherry bomb was one of my favourites to write. 
> 
> welcome to chapter 4! please let me know if there are any glaring errors--i did try to look this over before i posted it, but i swear with me sometimes you never know, lmao. this chapter is a little bit more serious than the last few to some degree, but hopefully it sheds a little bit of light on both who ten and kun are as people. in any case, i hope you guys enjoy it <3

When Ten finally arrives for Jisung’s private lesson, Jisung stops his warm-ups for a moment just to stare at him. It’s a little weird to have Jisung look like he’s trying to figure him out when he’s not dancing.

“Something on my face, kid?”

Jisung shakes his head slowly. He purses his lips before saying: “My best friend’s Chenle Zhong. You know him, right? He said he met you. You work at his new job.”

“I’ve met him a few times, yeah.” More like twice—the day Chenle was hired and one shift the week before.

Jisung relaxes, pleased. “That’s so cool,” he says with a sigh. “Chenle’s so lucky.”

Ten laughs. “You think so? He’s just bagging groceries.”

“Well, yeah...” Jisung’s cheeks go pink. “But he’s getting paid! And Chenle told Kun he wanted a job _literally _last week. Limitless was the first place he applied for. And—well, he gets to work with you! That’s super exciting.” Jisung’s eyes widen almost immediately after saying that, and he bites down on his lip.

“Aw,” Ten says, touched. He reaches up to ruffle Jisung’s hair, pleased when the teen grumbles a little but doesn’t pull away. “I’m glad he’s enjoying it at Limitless,” Ten says. “I’m just glad Doyoung—that’s the manager—hired him. I mean, I’m not surprised, since we needed the workers and Kun _did_ mention Chenle seemed pretty keen—”

“Wait, you know Kun, too?!” Jisung’s eyes are wide.

“Uh.” Ten clears his throat. “Not well. Kun’s a regular, though, so I talk to him when he comes in. And he talked about Chenle, so...”

“Wow,” Jisung says. “You basically got Chenle his job. That’s so _cool_. Do you think you could get one for me, too? You know, after recital season.”

“If you’re still after one after all this is done,” Ten replies. “If you don’t want to take a massive break this summer and you’re still interested, sure. I’ll introduce you to Doyoung myself.” Then, noting Jisung’s expression, he adds, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Doyoung is one of my friends, and he always wants to know what I’m like as a teacher. He’d hire you faster than he did Chenle.”

“Really?” Jisung asks, breaking out into a gummy smile. “Because Chenle said he was hired in five minutes.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Right, well I’m holding you to that.”

“Sure. Anyways—stretches!”

They’re in the middle of stretching out their sides when Jisung says, “It’s good that Chenle’s got a job now, though. He’s wanted to help Kun out for ages.”

“Oh?” Ten had had a feeling, with how Kun talked about Chenle. “Is it just the two of them?”

“Basically, yeah.” Jisung goes straight into a lunge. “Chenle’s been living with Kun here in Neo City for three years now. They’re both from China, though.”

“That must be hard,” Ten says, “to be away from home.”

Ten sees Jisung’s nose wrinkle in the mirror. “I think Neo City’s their home now,” he says, in a tone that implies he knows more than what he’s saying. “I know Kun was worried about Chenle working because he wants Chenle to do well at school, but Lele always argued that I dance and I’m doing just fine.”

“Didn’t I overhear you talking to Yeojin about how you’re both failing math?”

Jisung splutters. “Math is hard! And our math teacher’s the worst. Besides, I’m doing super well in literature. My teacher says I should think about doing philosophy at university.”

Jisung’s teacher might be onto something. Jisung’s quiet and observant, and it means that even at the young age of sixteen, he understands more about the world than Ten does, sometimes. “You could,” he says. “You’d be a good storyteller, too,” he says, thinking of the way Jisung’s already bringing his solo character to life, even when everything was still being blocked out and completed. “Either way, you don’t need math.”

Jisung puffs up with pride as he stands up, rolling back his shoulders.

When they’re all stretched out, Ten claps his hands. “Let’s do a run through and see what our main issues are,” he says. Jisung nods, so Ten starts the music.

The next few hours fly by quickly, with Jisung watching Ten with as he demonstrates how certain moves should be done, or as he helps Jisung get into position for jumps. Jisung’s much chattier than he usually is, talking about Chenle and Kun and how they were always excited to see the recital, but seemingly more so, especially now that they knew Ten had choreographed it. There’s a swooping in Ten’s stomach at that information.

He’s learnt that Jisung considers Chenle and Kun members of his own family. He speaks about them with a lot of affection and is excited that someone—especially someone he admires—knows about them. And although Jisung’s careful about what he says to Ten’s polite questions, there’s a lot to learn from the boy’s body language.

There’s a difficult family life involved, Ten realises. Something that had forced an elder brother to take in a thirteen-year-old. For them never to return home, to have survived without their family. All Kun and Chenle only seemed to have each other and the Parks.

Hopefully, Ten thinks, as Jisung thanks him for the lesson, and promises to visit him and Chenle at Limitless soon, his little work family becomes a place of comfort for Chenle, too.

* * *

The thing about having friends like the people at Limitless is that they care.

It shouldn’t be so rare, but it is—a bunch of people who care, who find the time and energy to feel for you, no matter what you’re going through. Everyone’s hearts are so big and they have a lot of love to give. It’s not a bad thing most of the time—it’s usually far from it. Ten is so lucky to have it. He wants _everyone_ to have it. That’s why he got Chenle his job, and why he’ll help Jisung get one if he wants it. He wants them to meet these people, these kind and thoughtful people, and find a home with them.

But when people care, really and truly care, it means that they will hurt when you are hurt and cry when you cry. They’ll do their best to lift you from the whole you’ve found yourself in. And while Ten has been helped out of emotional moments and pulled others out of their funks, the roughest period of Ten’s life had changed him so profoundly that the only thing he could do was push them away for their protection.

Because as much as Ten felt like his world was falling apart, and as much as he was in pain, he knew that his friends were suffering just as much as he was. They cared. But no matter what they tried to do to help Ten bounce back, they couldn’t reach him. Ten had to make peace with everything first, to grieve and to accept. He had to do that in his own time. He had to be selfish for a little while, and that meant he had to get better on his own.

No one has ever judged Ten for doing what he did—at least, not to his face, although he’s sure that many would’ve been resentful at the time. It’s been a slow process, allowing them back into his life the way they always had been, being the person they knew and loved and someone _not_. But he’s been working on it because he wants to show them how much _he_ cares. He wants them to understand that he pushed them away to protect them.

Much later, when history repeats itself, and the pain is numb enough, this is what Ten thinks about. Wonders if he has the strength to do it all again.

All in all, it had been a regular shift. Ten had been gathering baskets and returning them to the entrance for customers to use when he steps on something that doesn’t feel like the solid, flat ground underneath his right foot. His momentum and the weight of the basket in his hands has him unsteadily sliding across the polished concrete floor.

(He learns later it’s a single green grape. A grape far from the produce section, that probably escaped from an unsuspecting customer’s cart or basket.)

Familiar but almost forgotten pain flares in his kneecap, and before Ten realises it, he’s on the ground, baskets scattered around him. He hears a feral scream and belatedly realises that it’s his.

Johnny runs over from the opposite side of the store. As soon as he reaches Ten, he lifts him off the ground; the jostle in his knee has him yelling again, biting down into his lip so hard he can taste metal.

“We need to keep it straight,” Johnny says, and he’s right. Ten thinks he’s over-extended it, but it’s hard to think through the haze of pain. It’s been so long since it’s been this bad—the pain bad enough to constantly to be at the front of his mind, feeding on his despair. “Mark,” Johnny calls, over Ten’s head, “Pick up the baskets and make sure no one else falls. You’ll have to cover the rest of my shift. Can you call Junmyeon and tell him what’s going on? I’ll write him a report tomorrow. Is there anyone able to supervise?”

“Dejun...” Ten says.

“Let him know I’m taking Ten to the hospital.”

There’s no panic in Johnny’s tone, and Ten tries to cling to it. The pain is overwhelming, almost to the point of being sick. He rests his head in the crook of Johnny’s neck, wanting it to recede. Johnny had always been good at dealing with Ten’s many injuries.

“I’m gonna carry you to my car,” Johnny says, patting him on the back. “I’ve got some shit in my boot that I can think can keep your knee in place on the way to the hospital.”

“You can just take me to—”

“We’re not going to fuck around with this, Ten,” Johnny says, voice firm. “We’re not pretending you’re fine.”

Johnny uses his puffer jacket and some rope he has in the back of his car as a splint. If Ten could focus on the present, perhaps he would’ve cracked a joke.

But Ten is two years in the past, thinking about the first time he felt the agony behind his knee. He remembers lying on the ground in the very dance studio he teaches his classes in, being one of their students, one of their future stars. He remembers they’d called an ambulance because Ten had all but collapsed in pain. He remembers throbbing and how raw his throat felt. He remembers: “You cannot professionally dance on this knee again. You’ll be lucky to get full function back with lots of therapy.”

He remembers the physical therapy; he remembers how hard it was to get out of bed.

Everything he’d ever worked for, ruined.

He’d had to accept he’d never be a dancer, had to pick himself up, dust himself off, and find something else to do with his life. His body didn’t care that he had been preparing to be a professional dancer all his life. It didn’t matter anymore.

Johnny and Ten arrive at the hospital together. He doesn’t look at the people who stare at him as he gets admitted to the ER within minutes of arriving.

It’s all a blur, but the feelings are the same. The non-effective painkillers that only take the slightest edge off the pain, the rawness of his throat, as he tries not to cry, this time, because he’s tired of wasting tears on futile things.

And then, just as Ten’s convincing himself this is something that he can get over, the doctor Ten hasn’t seen in eight months appears at his bedside, and the look on his face has Ten silently praying, begging, _Please. I can’t go through that again._

* * *

Ten’s not surprised to see Johnny at his door the next day, holding bags full of groceries and some take out. He’s still wearing his manager outfit, probably coming straight to Ten’s apartment from work.

Ten looks over at the clock on his wall, eyebrow raised. “Isn’t this a little early for you?”

Johnny shrugs. “Mark started early, and I told Junmyeon that someone had to make sure you weren’t overexerting yourself. He ended up telling me he’d pay me for my whole shift even if I left half an hour early and gave me a discount on your groceries.”

Ten opens the door wider, awkwardly manoeuvring himself in a circle to allow Johnny into his apartment. “I’m not overexerting myself.”

“Well then, that’s good to hear.” Johnny walks past him, heading into Ten’s kitchen. By the time Ten crutches over, Johnny’s already put half the groceries away. “I know you’re able to cook for yourself, but I bought Pad Thai so you at least keep off your feet for one day, Ten.”

“Is it from—”

“The shop on 116th Street? Of course.”

The last time Johnny had barged into his house like this, giving him orders and telling him what he could and couldn’t do, Ten had told him to fuck off and to stop treating him like a useless piece of shit. It had irritated him, both by his inability to do what he was born to do, by what he perceived to be everyone’s lack of faith, by the itchiness of his brace.

Johnny had said, “It’s okay to need help, Ten. You don’t have to do this alone. Call me when you need me.”

But Ten had _felt_ alone, stuck in a nightmare that none of his friends could even imagine. Something they couldn’t comprehend, because even Ten barely understood it. And so Ten hadn’t called, and Johnny hadn’t come back for two-and-a-half years.

It’s funny, that despite the distance between them, Johnny still knows exactly when Ten needs him. Even if Ten doesn’t know it himself.

“Thank you,” Ten says, and he sees Johnny’s shoulders relax. “Do you mind bringing that over to the coffee table? We can eat on the couch and watch some Netflix. I’ve started on the new season of _Nailed It_.”

The silence is awkward, but not necessarily uncomfortable. Ten has to remember what it’s like to be alone with Johnny because he’s forgotten. They get through two episodes of _Nailed It _and all of their pad Thai before Johnny breaks.

“Ten,” Johnny says, and Ten’s hackles raise a little, recognising Johnny’s tone. “How are you feeling?”

There’s a lot of things Ten can say. He settles with, “I’m doing better today,” which is mostly true.

He’s dealt with the stabbing pain in his knee for a long time. They had warned him that his knee would never go back to normal, and when he started choreographing and testing out some moves himself, he’d all but assured that his knee would never be pain-free ever again. Yesterday’s debilitating, excruciating pain, however, was something he hadn’t dealt with for a while.

But unlike last time, where the pain had lingered, waiting for any opportunity to strike and render Ten breathless, it had receded much more quickly this time around. Ten’s not fond of painkillers, afraid to depend on them, and even as he weans himself off them, his knee only rates a 7 on the pain scale rather than a 12.

Less pain means a milder injury. Milder injury means that he only needs a few more days of rest, and he’ll be back to himself again. Or at least, he’ll be able to go back to the studio. Nothing strenuous, but _something_. Limitless, on the other hand—

“You can’t _seriously_ be thinking about getting back into the swing of things.” Johnny sounds appalled. Ten hates how much of an open book he is. “Ten, you got hurt less than 24 hours ago!”

“Inactivity is an injury’s worst enemy,” he responds. His physical therapist had mentioned it multiple times, but it was more about making sure he did his exercises daily, rather than moving back into full-time work. Johnny doesn’t need to know that—although the look on his face suggests that he wouldn’t believe Ten even if he tried.

Johnny sighs. “Junmyeon won’t let you come back for at _least_ two weeks, if that,” he says. “I’d keep you off for a month if I could.”

“You can’t.” Johnny knows as well as anyone that if Ten stops working at Limitless, he won’t be able to afford his rent.

“We can help you out,” Johnny says, “Until you get back onto your feet—literally. Seriously Ten, we’re all here for you.”

Familiar words come to mind—_I’m not a useless piece of shit_—but Ten’s matured, somewhat, since then, or at least learnt how to hold his tongue. “I couldn’t burden you like that,” he settles on instead.

“It’s not a burden if we’re offering.”

“Why?” Ten asks. He knows that they all care, but he still doesn’t know why they care for him _that_ much. Why they would willingly let themselves be hurt by him and his knee when they had other things to focus on?

Johnny runs a hand over his face, sighing. “Because, Ten,” he says, finally, after a long period of silence. Someone reveals a cake with bulging eyes and a bald head that’s supposed to be Donald Trump. “We all love you too much to watch you destroy yourself.”

“I haven’t destroyed myself,” Ten defends.

“You’re more than your fucked knee,” Johnny replies. “You might not think so, but you are to us. When you think of yourself like that, it hurts you just as much as it hurts us. You weren’t ever just a dancer to us, Ten. Above everything, you’re our friend. We just want you to be happy and healthy, no matter what that entails. Even if you have to chop your stupid leg off—”

“Jesus, it’s not _that_ serious—”

“And you’re a grumpy asshole about it, we’d still want to be there for you,” Johnny says. “Do you get it now?”

Ten bites his lip, pondering, and then shaking his head. “Honestly? Not really,” he says. “I just—you have to understand. Dancing was all I ever wanted to do. And I’m grateful for all the opportunities I’ve been given. I love choreographing, I love teaching. But I always saw _myself_ as a dancer. And it was ripped away from me, and there was nothing I could do about it.” Ten looks over, observes the kicked puppy expression on Johnny’s face. “But,” he says, “I’m understanding it all better. I’m not useless—you’re just smothering.”

Johnny’s laugh is so stupid, and it’s been so long since Ten heard it in response to anything he’d said, so he laughs along with him. As the end of the _Nailed It _episode ends, Ten feels himself healing—maybe not his knee, but the ones deeper, the wounds he’d never admitted had hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ten's backstory has finally been revealed! and jisung has shed some light on kun and chenle's situation. what do you guys think??
> 
> the next chapter's already written, but i do need to edit it, and i'm hoping to have made a decent amount of progress on chapter 6 before i post. hopefully it'll be up soon, but i can't make too many promises at the moment. 
> 
> in any case, thank you for reading! any and all feedback is appreciated. :)
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/eggboyksoo)   
[cc](http://curiouscat.me/eggboyksoo)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nah, Ten has this massive crush on a customer,” Donghyuck rambles on, wiping tears from his eyes. Ten’s heart rate spikes. “Everyone talks about how smitten Ten looks when his customer comes through, God. I’d pay so much money to see it.”
> 
> “A customer?” Chenle echoes.
> 
> “Yeah. Crazy, right—? Ow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! sorry about the wait. it is Thesis Month and i have been writing that as well as other things to stop myself from freaking out but i'm a bit all over the place at the moment! this will probably be the only update of this for this month; as soon as i get my thesis in i'll be able to finish working on chapter 6. but i didn't want to sit on this for too much longer, so here we go!
> 
> big thanks to ditto for helping me do research on thesis ideas for this chapter! <3

**Chenle Zhong (Limitless)**

ten!  
i hope you’re okay with me texting you hehehe  
i just wanted to see how you were doing!

hi lele!  
i’m doing pretty good, actually!  
i’m actually going to be back at work starting from next week :)

really?  
will you be there on monday?

actually yes!  
it’ll be my first shift back

cool!!  
i think everyone is excited to have you back… i know taeyong and hendery seemed worried

haha, yeah  
i think my injury was very sudden… it was a little scary

dejun told me about it! i really hope you’re feeling better :(

i am! please don’t worry about me!

okay :(  
kun-ge misses you too  
when he comes back from his grocery shopping he always seems so down  
i think it’s because he hasn’t seen you in a while hehehe

oh, really?

i think so! :)

well  
just let your gege know that i’ll be back soon

will do :))))  
take care of yourself, ten!!  
i’ll see you on thursday :)

* * *

**Sicheng Dong (Winwin, LOML)**

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
HELP!!!!!!!!!!!

omg are you okay

would i be asking for your help if i was okay

i mean you don’t ask for help even if you’re not

now isn’t the time to be exposing me and my flaws, sicheng

just tell me what you want you’re interrupting my afternoon youtube session

youtube ;)

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT CHITTAPHON

YIKES OKAY  
so  
chenle messaged me  
he was checking in on me and seeing when i would be back at limitless  
it was cute

okay cute  
?? so you want to adopt chenle  
cool  
i met him like once in passing  
i don’t know if he even knew kun and i were dating  
and despite that  
i would kill everyone and then myself for him

.  
okay  
perhaps you made some points, but that’s not why i was texting you  
i was texting you, because!!!  
chenle’s like to me  
literally verbatim  
“kun-ge misses you too”  
?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?

“verbatim” is such a big word from you

FOCUS SICHENG FOCUS

okay fine  
look i think this is pretty obvious but  
chenle obvi likes the idea of you and kun together

hhhhhhhhhhhh  
!!!!!!!!!!!!  
but like  
why

has chenle ever been on the grocery runs with kun?

no  
we only met after he applied/started working

so???

doyoung’s corrupted him?

no, dipshit  
kun’s obviously been talking about you  
to chenle

you think so?

duh

o-oh

gross  
next time you see him flirt more  
then ask him out  
then do the beast with two backs

what the fuck

beast with two backs is just. so fucking fun to say

can you stop telling me to have sex with your ex  
like i’m super grateful for your support but this is weird  
is it because we’ll be dick sisters or what

god that’s so funny but nah  
look you’ll thank me when u bang  
trust  
can i go now

yes carry on

thank you rosanna pansino just released another video i have 2 go

you literally cannot bake to save your life  
or do anything

you don’t need to be a chef to enjoy baking videos, ten  
later hater alligator

* * *

Jaemin, appointed a supervisor in Ten’s absence, falls sick the night before Ten returns to work. He mentions that his dinner didn’t agree with him; Ten just thinks his demon espresso drink has finally wreaked havoc onto Jaemin’s digestive system.

_“I know you open on Mondays and I know you wanna say hi to Kun,”_ Doyoung says over the phone, prompting an involuntary eye roll from Ten, _“But we need a supervisor on Monday night. Taeyong’s only available in the morning and Dejun’s already working.”_

“Renjun?”

_“He’s got a uni thing.” _Doyoung sighs. _“Please?”_

Ten couldn’t say no—and so Ten misses Kun for yet another Monday morning. He’d never admit it to Doyoung, but he’s a little disappointed.

Still, there’s always Thursday. Ten closes on Thursdays, and Chenle finishes an hour before then and gets picked up by Kun. So it’s not a total loss in Ten’s book, and he puts Kun and Chenle’s texts to the back of his mind. He has classes to plan, and a recital to prepare for—and now, since his doctor has allowed him to stop using crutches, granted that he agrees to further tests, Ten is looking forward to being in the studio and moving around a little. He’s tired of having to rest on his crutches and watch his students without getting to join in.

His kids cheer when Ten comes in, crutch free.

Ten laughs. “Thank you all for the support. I’ll actually be able to show you what you need to do.”

“And dance with us,” Jisung adds.

The pain in Ten’s knee has subsided—he can bear weight on it for certain periods of time without breaking a sweat, and jostling it doesn’t lead to a sudden wave of nausea, with or without painkillers. But it’s still not back to the familiar, stabbing pain that Ten’s used to. It’s a live wire, ready to cause havoc if Ten tries his luck.

“We’ll see,” Ten says, hoping his smile doesn’t look forced.

The kids are understanding of his slow, gentle movements. If they’re anything like Ten, who got his first major injury at 10, these kids knew when it was necessary to dance through the pain, and when it was okay to be sloppy.

It’s harder than Ten thought it would be, though. He’s 23 years old and his body feels like it’s betraying him.

By the end of his class, Ten’s knee is aching, but he grins and bears it. He answers his kids’ questions and concerns, ruffling their hair as they go. When all of them except Jisung leave—last, like always, having come to Ten with a million questions and waiting behind his classmates rather than packing his bag—Ten sighs and hobbles over to where his stuff is, lifting his shirt to get air circulating onto his sweaty stomach.

“Jisungie!”

Ten freezes, still holding the hem of his shirt up.

Chenle Zhong is walking through his studio. Ten watches his newly dyed orange head bob along as he approaches Jisung. Chenle is admonishing Jisung for being late, but Ten’s gaze is now at the door.

Kun is standing there with a hesitant smile, eyes having flickered up from Ten’s bare torso to his face.

“Hi, Ten,” Kun says.

Ten swears he imagines the pink spots on Kun’s face.

“Hey there!” Ten’s voice sounds off. He wants to clear his throat, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“We saw the last ten minutes of your class,” Chenle pipes up. “And then some, I guess, because Jisung’s got too many questions.”

“They were _important_!” Jisung insists. “Right, Ten?”

“For sure,” Ten replies. He tries not to think about how Kun saw him teaching, doing what he loves best.

“It’s nice to see you in your natural habitat.” Kun steps across the threshold, eyes flickering over to where Chenle and Jisung are packing the latter’s dance bag. “Is it weird to say I missed you? Chenle said you were coming back to work at Limitless this week, but I didn’t see you on Monday.”

Ten begs himself to stay calm at Kun’s easy confession. “I had to work Monday night. Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“No need to apologise,” Kun says with a smile. “We’re seeing each other now, anyway. How’s your knee?”

“Ah,” Ten says, suppressing a grimace. “Well, it’s—it’s getting there.”

His knee seizes, forcing Ten to shift his weight onto his other leg, mocking him, but Kun doesn’t seem to have noticed. Ten stares at the fistful of shirt he has in his hands and drops it. “So,” he says, as if he hasn’t been acting strange the entire time, “What brings you to Vision?”

Kun’s grin is playful, eyes flickering back to Chenle and Jisung. Jisung is trying to bat his best friend away, to no avail, Chenle laughing as he tries to wrap a towel over his head. “As much as it’s great to see you,” Kun says, “I’m on guardian duty. Jisung’s staying at our place tonight. It’s his parents’ wedding anniversary.”

“Aw, cute.” Ten raises his voice, adding, “Tell Mama and Papa Park congratulations, Ji!”

“Yeah, yeah.” The towel on Jisung’s head muffles his voice.

Kun says something in Mandarin too fast for Ten to pick up on, but Chenle pulls the towel off of Jisung’s head. His student looks like a disgruntled baby kitten. “We should go,” Kun adds. “We don’t want to keep Ten here for too long. He probably has things he needs to do.”

There was nothing waiting for him but a bottle of wine and more cooking shows on Netflix, but Ten appreciated the gesture, regardless. He knew that his leg would make close up difficult tonight.

“Wait,” Jisung says. “Can I pack my bag and show Chenle some of my choreography real quick? Please, Ten?”

Jisung never asks for much, outside of advice. Chenle’s pleading look, right next to him—he’s never seen the two of them together before, and he feels so much fondness for both of them he can’t help but cave. “Sure, but only if Kun’s okay with it.”

“Ten, are you sure—?”

“It’s fine,” Ten says. “Some students like to stay back. You’ll be keeping me company, anyway.”

Kun shoots Ten a lingering look before he refocusses on the kids, both looking at him with their best puppy eyes and pouts. “Five minutes,” he says, and Chenle cheers, his voice reverberating through the room. “Don’t make us both regret it.”

“Of course, _ge_!” Chenle says with a bright grin, and Jisung grabs his wrist, moving Chenle to a better vantage point.

Jisung dances the section of his solo they’d practiced today, his moves already looking cleaner and more fluid than they had even an hour ago. Chenle watches on, pride and admiration clear in all his features. Kun and Ten watch them, wrapped up in their own little world, before Kun speaks.

“It’s weird talking to you without a counter or groceries in front of me,” Kun admits, head turned towards him. “Like, even this angle is different. Is that strange?”

He gets it. It’s easier, Ten thinks, to talk to Kun over a counter. Not only is there the physical barrier between them, but Ten pushes down any thought of how attractive Kun is by the force of his professionalism. They’re still at Ten’s work, but it’s different here. Kun’s not a student, nor a student’s parent—even if he is Jisung’s guardian for the night—or a client.

What Ten says is, “I’ve gotta say, talking to you is harder now I don’t have ice-breakers like _‘How would you like your groceries packed_’ and _‘Would you like your receipt?’_”

Kun laughs, open and cheerful similar to Chenle’s, except less high-pitched. It’s the first time Ten’s ever heard him laugh like that, having only been privy to Kun’s polite chuckle, and something keens over inside him at the sound. “We’ve still got _‘How’s your day been?’_ I think you should go first, since you’re always the one asking me.”

“Ah, well…” Ten runs a hand through his hair, nervous. Ten isn’t sure what to say. This feels real—between two people, not a cashier and his customer anymore. It’s what he’s kind of always wanted, but never thought he’d get. “It’s been okay. I got to dance today, which is great.”

“Is it the first time since your injury?” Kun asks.

Ten nods. “Nothing too crazy. Not that I do much dancing these days, anyway.”

A look passes over Kun’s face—his eyes drop to Ten’s knee for a moment, and then he’s staring at the kids again. He looks like he wants to ask something, but doesn’t, and Ten can’t help but feel relieved as also fixes his gaze on the kids.

Chenle’s a surprisingly decent dancer, having picked up the foundations of the moves from Jisung. Some polishing and Chenle could be a soloist, too. “You’re a natural, Chenle!”

Chenle’s whole body perks up with praise, Jisung hitting him in the shoulder. With a perfunctory “Thank you, Ten!” Chenle returns his focus on Jisung, who teaches him the next few counts of choreography.

“Either way,” Ten says, feeling like he has to justify himself, now, “It’s nice to be teaching the kids properly. It’s hard for them to learn choreography when I can’t do it.” It’s hard for him to demand the little bits and pieces necessary to make a choreography work when he’s not able to show them the finesse those things require. His kids are naturals, though, picking up what he can’t show them, but choreography is more about the show than tell.

“You said you don’t dance much anymore,” Kun says, hesitant. “So I’m assuming you used to dance before?”

Ten nods. “Yeah. I majored in dance in college. I used to study here, too. I wanted to be a professional dancer.”

Silence. Ten prepares himself for the inevitable question, pain flickering in his knee again. Kun asks, “With Sicheng?”

“Yeah, with Sicheng.” Ten releases a breath, sends up a prayer in thanks. “That’s how we know each other. We both got hired by the studio when we graduated. We both teach, but Sicheng’s an established dancer these days, and I’m a freelance choreographer in my spare time.”

“You have a lot of spare time?”

Ten laughs. “Can a millennial have a lot of free time _and_ pay the bills _and _dinner?”

“You got me there.” Kun sighs. “PhD candidacy is expensive. I’m lucky my supervisor has taken me on as her protégé—I think she’s tired of taking on all the lecturing gigs, so she’s setting me up for a position within the department. I just have to, you know, get the PhD first.”

Ten’s mouth widens in shock. “You’re a PhD student?”

Kun nods, bashful. “Yeah. Ancient history. I focus on Ancient Greece.”

Ten whistles. “Damn, you’re cultured.”

“You say that like you’re not!”

“I’m not,” Ten winks, and ignores Kun shaking his head. “The only other person I’ve met doing a PhD is Taeil—he’s the deli manager at Limitless, do you know him? He just started this year, though, it took him ages to want to go back to school after his honours year. I don’t remember what happened—” Taeil’s _Worst Fucking Year of My Fucking Life _had also been the worst year of Ten’s life, period, so he’d been a little preoccupied, “—But the lab wanted him super bad and he missed it, he just had to shake off the bad experience to move on.”

“I’m in my first year, too,” Kun says, with a laugh, “Although I haven’t taken time off. No time like the present, right? And I felt like my honours thesis had more questions than answers, so I was excited to get back into it? But I didn’t have the traumatic experience Taeil did.” He ponders for a moment. “Is he the short one with the cool undercut?”

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s working in immunology. It would be a pretty different experience, right?”

“That’s awesome,” and Ten can hear that Kun means it. “I mean, the settings are different, but I understand the crushing sense of failure is something that’s universal to all PhD candidates.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It’s true!” Kun pouts, before adds, “Well, I’m having a rough week, thesis wise, so I’m probably a little biased, but there’s no week without its own challenges.”

“That sounds shitty.” It’s not profound, but the dimple in Kun’s cheek appears and Ten has to quell the urge to poke at it. “What happened?”

“It’s more like, what didn’t happen,” Kun grumbles. “My thesis looks into the origin of astrological thought in Ancient Greece, and there was this primary source I was really excited to get my hands on, but the professor who gave me access forgot to tell me it’s in Sanskrit. I only ever learnt Ancient Greek and Latin during my undergrad, and I don’t have time to learn Sanskrit—” Kun looks up at him, biting down on his lip. “Sorry, this must sound inane. I can stop?”

“You speak Ancient Greek and Latin?”

“I don’t exactly _speak_ it,” Kun says, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose. “I can read it, though, and translate it. It was required it of any student interested in research.”

Ten scrambles to process this. Trying to ignore how hot that is, he says, “Sanskrit… that sounds familiar.”

“It’s the language of Ancient India,” Kun clarifies. “There’s not usually a lot of crossover, but the Ancient Indians translated Ancient Greek astronomy into Sanskrit and it influenced Hindu astronomy. I just wanted to see what was being said.”

“Oh! That sounds cool,” Ten says. It does, even if he’s not a hundred percent sure what’s going on. “It sounds rough though—can someone else translate for you?”

“There’s someone in the Department of Religious Studies who knows Sanskrit,” Kun says. “I’m trying to schedule a time to meet with them to see if they’ll be able to help me out, otherwise I have to find someone else. Either way, it’s gonna take some time I don’t have, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He sighs. “I’m also tutoring a few classes at the moment, and the Department has basically every class submit all their major essays in the same week, so I have a lot of marking to do and not a lot of time to chase up people who could help me with the scroll even if I wanted to. As soon as I get these two home—” Kun gestures at the two boys, who are giggling as they attempt to freestyle, “—I’ll get them fed and then crack open a bottle of red and start marking.”

“That sounds horrible,” Ten says. He’d never had to do many essays at uni, being a dance major, but they’d been the bane of his existence. He can’t imagine anyone would putting themselves through that torture again, but he’s finding academia pretty attractive at the moment. “I’m wishing you all the best.”

“Thank you,” Kun says. “It means a lot.”

“No worries. I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s that time of the year, right?”

He reaches up to pat Kun’s shoulder without a second thought. When his brain finally catches up, he almost wrenches it away. His hand has a mind of its own; it lingers, and Kun’s gaze flickers to it before he smiles.

“Yeah,” Kun says. “But the year’s nearly over, though. It’ll be nice to have some space to breathe once the semester’s done.” His eyes sparkle—was it normal for eyes to sparkle that much? Ten is unnerved. Kun was so nice up close, it was making him lose all sort of rational thought. A voice in the back of his head that sounds like Sicheng screams,_ Ask him out, dipshit!_

“When you’re done with all your marking, or something,” Ten shrugs, finally letting go of Kun’s shoulder, “Maybe you can go get some drinks with me?”

Ten swears Kun’s eyes darken, but before it even properly registers, Kun’s smiling at him, eyes more sparkly than ever. “I’d like that,” he says. “Do you mind if I get your number so I can tell you when I’m free?”

As soon as Ten’s saved his number to Kun’s phone and sent himself a text to keep Kun’s number, he hears Jisung and Chenle mumbling about how hungry they are.

“Maybe I can get Kun-_ge_ to let us make _ramen_,” Chenle says.

“You already had r_amen_ twice this week, Lele,” Kun says, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Besides, we’re having stew tonight.”

Jisung perks up, pleased, but Chenle pouts. “_Gege_, we’re hungry,” he says. “_Ramen_ only takes like, two minutes to cook!”

“I’ll buy you some street food on the way home, at the hawker near our place,” Kun says.

“The one that makes really good _tteokbokki_?” Jisung asks.

Kun nods.

“It’s not _ramen_, but it’s a win,” Chenle sighs. “We’re ready to go. Sorry for keeping you waiting, Ten!”

“Thank you, Ten,” Jisung says, with a bow, and Ten walks over to pat both of them on the head.

“Bye you two,” he replies. “And Chenle—seriously, if you want to take summer classes here, you really should!”

Chenle, Jisung and Kun all leave with bright spirits and cheerful waves. “See you soon, Ten,” Kun says, and Ten knows it’s a promise.

* * *

By the time Ten walks into Limitless on a Friday night, it is the fourth time in two weeks Johnny and Ten have tried to catch up. Johnny insisted on waiting until Ten got the all-clear from the doctor to make a time to go out, not trusting Ten to crutch around while drunk. (“Ye of little faith,” Ten said, but the look on Johnny’s face meant there was no room for argument.) Every time they’ve had to reschedule, Ten’s mind goes to the tweet about how adult friendships were just people telling each other they needed to hang out more over and over until someone died.

Limitless’ Friday night crew are braver than the US Marines in Ten’s opinion, because it’s the worst shift. It’s business as usual for them, although it’s much quieter than Ten expected.

Chenle looks up from the register he’s cleaning (Hendery’s influence, Ten thinks) and beams the minute he sees Ten. Ten can’t help but smile back and wriggle his fingers in a wave. “Hey there,” he says. “How are things?”

“Not bad!” Chenle says. “It’s good to see you, Ten!”

The rest of the front end staff—Taeyong, Dejun, Hendery and Renjun—all peek over counters and paperwork and say their hellos. Lucas, who is getting some break food rung up by Renjun, bounds over, arms outstretched. Then he takes one look at Ten’s outfit, then his own, dirty deli apron and all, and stops.

“I’m hugging you in my mind,” Lucas says, disposable hair net askew.

Even Jeno, who is heading towards the fridges stops to wave at him, shooting him his trademark eye-crinkling smile.

“What are you doing in tonight, anyway?” Chenle asks, curious.

“I’m waiting for Johnny,” Ten explains, making a beeline towards the bench by the front door. “We’re going out tonight.”

“He and Doyoung only signed out a few minutes ago,” Taeyong informs him, putting away his paperwork. “Which means—”

“I’m early. Shit.” Ten sighs, resting his back against the wall.

“Johnny?” Chenle’s voice is quieter, the question directed at Taeyong. Taeyong murmurs something quietly before their newest employee says, “Ahhh, the really tall guy!”

“Are you talking about Johnny? A million feet tall, hogging up all the space in the staff bathroom to get ready for dinner? Because that’s him,” a familiar voice says, and Ten is laughing before Doyoung even comes into his view. Doyoung’s loosened his tie, the way he always does when he’s finished work and he’s ready to be an asshole again. Ten’s about to say hello when his friend turns around, and points at someone he can’t see. “Don’t come over to pay unless you have a fruit _and_ a vegetable in that basket, punk!”

Renjun snorts. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m being dead serious, Renjun. If he doesn’t, send him back—oh, hello Ten.” Doyoung’s eyes move from the top of his head to his feet, assessing him. “No wonder Johnny’s going the fuck out upstairs. I’ve seen you in either work or dance clothes so much that I forgot what you looked like when you’re dressed up.”

“We’re going out for dinner,” Ten informs Doyoung, looking down on his (fake but deceptive) silk shirt and nice pants. “And you know Johnny likes them bougey.”

“Fair.” Doyoung checks his watch. “I gotta go catch my train.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“Hard pass,” Doyoung says. “I’ll be the third wheel and my car’s still in service, and I don’t want to stress about train timetables at night. Maybe next time, though.” He shouts goodbyes at everyone before he hurries out.

“Yongie? You can come after work.”

“I’ll be pretty beat,” Taeyong says, shaking his head.

“If you change your mind—”

“I’ll text you, promise.” Taeyong’s eyes twinkled. “But I want the two of you to enjoy your date!”

Chenle’s eyes dart between Taeyong and Ten. “A date?”

“Who’s going on a date?”

Two figures approach the registers. One is Johnny, dressed in a nice shirt and a clean pair of jeans. He waves at Ten as soon as he sees him. The second follows behind him, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, holding a basket full of ramen and assorted junk food—but there’s a bunch of bananas and a pack of spinach sitting precariously on top. The tanned face under the hood is familiar, but it’s not one Ten’s seen in a long time.

“Aw, it’s my parents! Three of them, anyway,” Donghyuck Lee says with a cheeky grin. “When Mark gets here and starts talking about how I ingest too much sodium, it’ll be the full set.”

“You claim Mark Lee as a parent?” Renjun asks with unveiled disgust.

“Yeah, duh. He’s a da—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m getting Doyoung to fire you,” Ten says, standing and making his way over to Donghyuck to give his favourite little shit a hug. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you—how’ve you been? How’s nightfill?”

“Boring because I can’t talk to anyone, but I kind of love it work wise. Lots of solo dance parties,” Donghyuck says, with a smile. “Miss me?”

“Nah,” Ten says, although it’s not true at all. He looks over Donghyuck’s shopping basket before adding, “I’m glad Doyoung told you to get some vegetables. Jesus, Hyuck.”

“Eating healthy during university? Overrated,” Donghyuck says, pulling his basket away and begins to unbag on Chenle’s register. Noticing the new boy standing there, he says, “Hey, I’m Donghyuck. I’m the nightfill guy. Are you the one that Ten helped to land a job?”

Chenle nods, shy, as he scans a pack of instant ramen. “I’m Chenle.”

Donghyuck beams. Ten wants to listen to what Donghyuck is talking about, but Johnny talks from beside him. “Who’s going on a date?” He repeats. “Did Hyuck finally ask Jeno out?”

Renjun snorts. “Maybe when hell freezes over.”

“I was talking about you and Ten,” Taeyong says. “You’re finally _bonding_.”

“We’re already bonded, why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Ten grumbles half-heartedly. He knows why.

“It’s just good to see you two hanging out again.” Taeyong always gets straight to the point when he needs to. “I hope you have a good time.”

A cackle draws their attention back to Donghyuck and Chenle, the former breaking out into laughter. “Look, there may have been some interesting rumours about Johnny and Ten at the Summer Work Party of 2k15,” he says, “But trust me. They’re just bros.”

“Oh,” Chenle says.

“Nah, Ten has this massive crush on a customer,” Donghyuck rambles on, wiping tears from his eyes. Ten’s heart rate spikes. “Everyone talks about how smitten Ten looks when his customer comes through, God. I’d pay so much money to see it.”

“A customer?” Chenle echoes.

“Yeah. Crazy, right—? _Ow!_”

Donghyuck doesn’t get the chance to finish that thought, because Ten’s all but launched himself at him. “That’s enough,” he says, avoiding eye contact with Chenle. God, Donghyuck’s given him too much ammo. Chenle already suspected _something_ was going on with him and Kun, and while there might have been a date planned, he doesn’t want to confirm Chenle’s suspicions yet. The relationship is barely even a thing, and he doesn’t want this relayed back to Kun.

“Ow, what the fuck, my _shoulder_,” Donghyuck says. “I know everyone else makes fun of you because of it, why did you have to attack me?”

“Because you’re a little shit,” Ten says, and it’s reason enough. “Stop scaring our new employee.”

“I’m not! Chenle and I have bonded now, right Chenle?”

“Uh, I mean…”

“Come on Chenle!” Donghyuck coaxes, and Ten pulls him away.

“No pressuring the new kid!”

“Fuck _off_,” Donghyuck says. “Can I get my groceries first?”

Ten’s arms tighten around Donghyuck, considering. Just as Donghyuck is about to whine, the phone in Ten’s pocket vibrates; reluctantly, he lets Donghyuck go.

It’s an unknown number. They’re pretty common for Ten these days, but he still has to fight the urge to decline the call. Numerous scam calls will do that to you. He holds a finger to his lips, before heading over to the corner of the store. “Hello, this is Ten.”

_“Hi Ten,” _the person on the phone says, voice cordial. _“My name is Taemin Lee, and I work for Ace Entertainment.” _

Ten’s heart stops. “Taemin Lee? Ace Entertainment?”

_“It sounds like you’re familiar with us, then.”_

“Of course.” Who _hadn’t_ heard of Ace Entertainment? Who hadn’t heard of _Taemin Lee_? He was one of the biggest pop stars that had come from Neo City, having started in the business at 14, and only getting bigger and better with each passing year. A shareholder at the label that had made him famous, there were rumours Taemin was dipping his feet into the management side of the industry, but he would’ve never expected a call from him.

_“That’s fantastic,”_ Taemin says. _“I was hoping that I could meet with you, actually?”_

“Can I ask what for?” Ten’s heart is in his throat. There’s only one reason Taemin Lee would call him, and he’s too cautious to want to entertain it.

_“I know that you work at the Vision Dance Studio. Victoria talks highly of you.” _Taemin pauses for a moment for adding,_ “At some point a few years ago, Victoria was signed to Ace Entertainment as an in-house dancer. I consider her family, and she’s also one of the best dancers in the city. When I asked for potential choreographers, she gave me your details.” _

It uses all of Ten’s willpower to not end up falling on the ground. _“I would trust her on word alone, but I’ve checked out some of your work. I’ve liked everything I’ve seen so far. Your newest one—_Lonely_—made it clear for me. You’re exactly who I need.” _

“I’m—I’m really honoured—” Ten begins, but Taemin cuts him off.

_“It’s a big ask, and I want to make sure you’re okay with doing it,” _Taemin says, _“But I’d like to meet with you sometime next week and discuss the possibility of you choreographing our new boy group’s debut song.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big things are coming, it looks like!
> 
> as always, all feedback is appreciated <3
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/eggboyksoo)  
[cc](http://curiouscat.me/eggboyksoo)


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